


make time and take it slow

by heartseekers



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, alternating pov, harin owns a minivan i'm so sorry, mentioned geonhak, mentioned harin, mildly ooc at the very least, tiniest bit of introspection, told through snippets, vague roadtrips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28333932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartseekers/pseuds/heartseekers
Summary: Youngjo does what he should’ve done since day one. Instead of calling Dongju’s parents or anybody else, he pulls up his phone and starts a new text message. Types “I’m back,” and not “I’m home,” like he wants to, then “I’m sorry,” knowing it’s not enough for the things that happened between them.Hits send.Waits.
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Son Dongju | Xion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	make time and take it slow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oceanic (jangmun)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jangmun/gifts).



> for the wemoon secret santa exchange! the prompt is as follows:
>
>> Youngjo is a hard worker, never taking breaks and always bringing his work home with him. Dongju on the other hand, can't stand it when Youngjo brings work home. A heated argument later, one break up later, and several months later, Youngjo has finally sorted out his life. But he can't find Dongju.
> 
> i took a few liberties with the "several months later" part, but i hope my work is enjoyable for my giftee nonetheless. happy holidays! i hope you get to spend them together with your loved ones! 

The trip to the apartment is shorter than he remembers. The distance from Geonhak’s block to theirs seemed to stretch on forever on the rare nights they were stumbling home after a party, bemoaning the chilly air and their own uncooperating limbs. Now it feels like he’ll be there too soon, like there’s not enough time before he’s face to face with Dongju’s blank expression again, the unhappy curl to his lip that tugs at Youngjo’s heartstrings in the most painful ways. 

Shifting the backpack hanging off his shoulder, Youngjo thinks back to the words he’s rehearsed for weeks. All the little details he’s drilled into his brain, making sure he won’t forget anything, that Dongju gets the best version of his apology, the one he deserves. There’s a piece of paper with everything he wants to tell him tucked into a notebook in Geonhak’s bookshelf, but Youngjo felt it would’ve been cowardly to slip that under the door and let Dongju read it. He needs to be there. Dongju has to hear every word come out of his mouth. 

Soon enough, the large door marking the entrance to their complex greets him. His fingers slip on the plastic card as he fishes it out of his pocket and Youngjo curses; he didn’t even realize his palms were that sweaty. Once past it he quickly runs up the stairs, stomach trembling with every step he takes that brings him closer to their apartment. Three flights of stairs feel like nothing now, and all too soon he’s standing in front of the wooden surface separating him from Dongju. 

Youngjo scrambles with the key as he pushes it into the lock and thankfully it doesn’t get stuck. He steps into their hallway and takes in the still air, listening for any sounds other than his ragged breathing: the creak of the couch, a chair scraping over the kitchen floor or one of the doors opening; Dongju’s quiet sigh. 

Everything is eerily quiet.

He drops his backpack without even meaning to. Youngjo’s legs tremble as he walks further into the apartment, pausing with one hand on the wall leading to the living room. Maybe Dongju didn’t hear him come in, or he’s still sleeping. The fine layer of dust sitting undisturbed on their coffee table says otherwise, but Youngjo swallows dryly and ignores it, pushes past the uncomfortable feeling in the cage of his chest and goes to open the door to their bedroom.

Their things are still there. Youngjo doesn’t remember what the bedroom looked like when he packed a meager bag and set off to Geonhak’s, but nothing major seems to be missing. He sees his reflection in the black TV screen and it startles him, seeing another person out of the corner of his eye, makes him almost trip over the hair dryer on the floor. Picking it up, he has half a mind to put it in the closet but his heart squeezes painfully when his eyes slip to the set of doors in front of him, big and menacing. He doesn’t fail to notice the dust covering the hair dryer either, and Youngjo chooses to put it on the bed instead, wrapping the cord around the body so it doesn’t hang off the mattress.

With a sigh, he closes the door to their bedroom and goes to sit on the couch.

Maybe Dongju just went out.

—

Dongmyeong looks pretty like that, with the wind blowing his hair away from his forehead and his mouth split wide open in a smile. It makes Dongju’s own lips lift up at the corners—he can’t not smile when Dongmyeong is so obviously happy next to him, carefree and without a worry. It’s almost enough to make him forget about the reason they’re here in the first place, driving towards the sea. The sun is going to set soon and the sparse clouds before them are burnished an orange-pink that Dongju hasn’t seen in a while; there’s a faint pang in his chest and Dongju instinctively brings up a hand towards the spot, stopping himself in time when he sees Dongmyeong turn towards him from the corner of his eye.

The smile he shoots him is probably not very convincing, but Dongmyeong spares him and doesn’t question him about it. They talked about everything a couple of days after Dongju first stumbled through his door and then again later, when a week turned into two and Dongju still seemed far off and distant, stealing Dongmyeong’s house clothes and picking at his food when they ate together. He had decided that heartache didn’t look good on his brother and quickly packed off a few shirts and an extra jacket, dumped them all into his roommate’s trunk and announced they were going away for a few days. 

Dongju didn’t really want to go, but he also missed being with his brother and just going out with somebody. So he smiled sheepishly at Harin as he put on his seatbelt, letting Dongmyeong do the talking and promise that they’d get his beloved (and, frankly, a bit beat up) minivan back in one piece and then they were pulling out of the parking spot and into the street. Harin looked slightly confused when Dongju glanced in the side mirror but Dongmyeong assured him he’d understand, and that he also wouldn’t complain too much because he’d be the one paying for the gas anyway. Nothing Dongju could argue, really.

Later on, he found that they were driving towards the beach, some place a couple of hours away from Seoul. Dongju managed to nap for half an hour and then stare out the window for the rest of the trip and now here they are—with Dongmyeong reaching over to turn on the radio, catching the end of the news segment as it transitions into a song. It’s bright and peppy and he immediately starts singing along, pitching his voice in an effort to match the singer’s as his eyebrows climb up higher and higher on his forehead. Dongju can’t help but snort and smack his arm lightly, settling more comfortably in his seat and staring straight ahead.

—

Dongju doesn’t come back. 

Not that evening, not during the night, not even in the early hours of the morning.

At some point, Youngjo passes out. He wakes up in yesterday’s clothes, neck cramping from where he leaned his head against the couch at an angle, fingers curled loosely around his phone. There’s no new missed calls, no messages, nothing. The air sits undisturbed the same way it did a day before but now it’s even dryer, a scorching path down Youngjo’s lungs whenever he breathes in. 

He looks outside the window and down the empty street, takes in the way the apartment looks in the bright morning light. His touch is the most this place has seen in a while but even the indent in the couch where he slept all night is shaping back up, slowly erasing any clue that Youngjo might have been there. 

Dongju’s side of the closet is mostly empty when he finally dares to open it. Some of his clothes are still inside and Youngjo’s heart twinges with hope for a moment, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the neatly folded fabric of his sweaters. It’s not much comfort but he latches on to it and squeezes the handle of the closet before he shuts it quietly, pressing his palm to the thin wood once the door is closed. For better or worse it’s enough to know that Dongju chose to leave a part of him there, in their apartment. Youngjo will have to wait and see.

In the meantime, he doesn’t have many options. He could sit around and mope, staring at the door and willing it to open and reveal Dongju standing on the other side; or he could relearn to exist in their space until Dongju returns. The dust Youngjo kicks up when he moves around mocks him, he thinks, and that’s the first thing he starts with—wiping the thick layer that has accumulated over every surface in their bedroom, making it look lived in again.

His phone hangs heavily in his pocket but Youngjo doesn’t pull it out yet, fingers trembling at the mere thought that Dongju won’t pick up (or worse, that he’d hang up on him or that his number is blocked). He still keeps it close, will definitely hear it if it rings, but he picks up the hair dryer and finally puts it inside the closet, trailing his fingers along the soft edge of one of Dongju’s sweaters before turning back towards the room and opening the window.

—

His ice cream is still stiff despite them having gotten their cones a while ago. Dongmyeong’s bitten into his enough to reach the waffle cone, humming happily at the crispy crunch while Dongju’s slowly working away at his strawberry and sprinkles. It’s a bit chilly for ice cream, he thinks, but the park was open and the shop was still selling it, so they didn’t hesitate to get some.

They left the beach behind after two nights in a small sea-side hotel, Dongju’s pockets lined with enough shells to jingle whenever he walked, and drove further inland. He doesn’t think he knows the name of the town they’re in but it doesn’t matter—Dongmyeong took his hand in his when Dongju reached for his phone and opened the maps app, covering the screen before he could see where they were. And it suits him just fine, he supposes; he trusts his brother more than anything, and that’s never led him astray before.

Colorful lights wash off Dongmyeong’s skin in a chaotic shade of red. The park is lit up, but it’s nearly empty—a few children walk around with their parents and teenagers huddle together while pointing at the Ferris wheel, glowing but unmoving. There’s a few other rides but they’re suited for younger kids, although Dongmyeong stops to look at the tiny rotating cars when they pass by them. 

“Do you think we could ride those if we asked?” 

Dongju snorts at that and makes it really obvious he’s eyeing Dongmyeong from head to toe. “I can at least fit in there,” he says, no real heat in his voice, and it surprises a laugh out of his brother. It’s a short bark that draws the attention of the person in charge of the cars and one concerned parent who turns to shoot them a dirty glare over their shoulder.

That just makes Dongmyeong laugh louder and he pulls Dongju away from the little cars, towards one of the paths leading away from the lights and the big Ferris wheel. Dongju’s surprised to feel himself smile as well, cheeks pulling up into the familiar grimace until his teeth show in the semi-darkness. They find a bench to sit on while Dongmyeong shakes the last of the giggles off his shoulders and Dongju bites into his ice cream to hide the smile that still lingers on his lips.

Dongmyeong waits for him to finish his cone before he starts talking again, leaning forward in his seat until he can make out the distant sign on a food stand in front of them.

“We should go get tteokkochi next,” he says, watching carefully as Dongju’s eyes light up imperceptibly.

—

Four days after coming back to their apartment, Youngjo starts to worry something’s up. He checks his conversation history with Dongju, sees that he told him he would be back in a month and that Dongju’s reply had been a dry _okay_ , and that’s it. No other texts between them.

He didn’t think to announce his return when he first got back because he assumed he would find Dongju there. Not necessarily waiting for him, but their breakup had been bitter rather than nasty and Dongju wouldn’t have changed the locks or thrown Youngjo’s belongings outside. There were no angry calls from their landlord about unpaid rent while he was away, and no overstuffed mailbox to get home to. Dongju’s signature is still on that lease.

Youngjo does what he should’ve done since day one. Instead of calling Dongju’s parents or anybody else, he pulls up his phone and starts a new text message. Types “ _I’m back,_ ” and not “ _I’m home,_ ” like he wants to, then “ _I’m sorry_ ,” knowing it’s not enough for the things that happened between them. Hits send. Waits. 

It doesn’t come as a surprise that Dongju doesn’t reply. Youngjo just hopes he’s seen his message, that he’s read it and that he knows he means it, but part of him feels like it’s fair, like he deserves it—he was the one who chose to walk out of Dongju’s life and disappear for a month. Bitterly, he lies and tells himself that there isn’t much tying them together except for their signatures on a piece of paper but he knows there’s more to that. Calling it a breakup felt weird even in the heat of the moment, head full and hot as they were headed down the familiar path of yet another argument. 

There’s two sides to every story but Youngjo blames himself just a little bit more for what happened, for being so absorbed in his work he almost put it before another person and even forgot to take care of himself at times. It used to make him feel like he was forcefully held open every time Dongju would mention that he was working too hard and Youngjo was left denying it and trying to convince both of them that it wasn’t the case. Afterwards, Dongju’s eyes were always filled with sadness and a faraway look of defeat that he probably wasn’t aware of, and something heavy and unsettling would sink to the bottom of Youngjo’s stomach as a result; he would often go around with that weighing him down, especially after they’d fight.

He doesn’t feel the need to throw himself into his work anymore, not the same way he did before. One month away with just his laptop to focus on and the same work hours took care of that. Geonhak was good company, but he had his own life to live and he tried to give Youngjo space after hovering around him for a few days didn’t seem to do anything. They mostly met up in the evening or at night—inevitable since Youngjo was crashing at his place.

The weekends were harder to deal with in the beginning and Youngjo chose to work extra hours at first in an attempt to fill up his free time without having to deal with Geonhak’s concerned gaze. He quickly realized he would probably collapse if he kept that up. Afterwards, he tried taking it easy and started with letting himself sleep in, not brushing Geonhak off when he peered into his living room to ask him without too many words if something else had happened.

Now he wants Dongju to come back, at least for a chance to apologize to him. He peers down at his phone again, no new notifications in sight and passes his thumb down the edge of the screen mindlessly.

—

In his defense, Dongju takes a while to see the text because his phone had been in the glovebox for almost a week, completely dead for at least a few days. Dongmyeong had been a wonderful distraction in the meantime, not letting him worry about any missed texts (they called their parents on Dongmyeong’s phone and they seemed delighted to see them spending time together, even if they noticed that Dongmyeong did most of the talking). Now they’re getting ready to check into their room for the night, their last stop before driving back in the morning and Dongju thinks it wouldn’t hurt to grab his phone and charge it in preparation for their return.

He plugs it in while Dongmyeong is in the shower and waits for the battery to charge up a bit before he turns it back on. The notifications start popping up almost immediately, a whole slew of them after Dongju’s been away for a while. Most of them aren’t that interesting—news articles, a few weather reports and email spam, plus some kakao notifications from his group chats.

Youngjo’s text comes in last, almost, shocking him into stillness as he reads over the words. Dongju’s fingers freeze above the screen as he goes over the message, choosing not to open it. He sees it was sent a few days ago in the afternoon and wonders how long Youngjo’s been waiting for him; either for a reply or for Dongju to show up at their apartment. His gut clenches at the thought and suddenly he’s not so ready for the drive back, even as he knows that it’s unavoidable. Dongmyeong can’t drive them around forever, but as his eyes flit back to the words written on his phone Dongju desperately wishes he could do so.

It’s a miracle Dongju hears the water shutting off through the sound of his heart beating in his ears and the buzzing unease stirring in his brain. He pulls up his mailbox instead and flicks through his emails, deleting the ones he doesn’t need as Dongmyeong opens the bathroom door and steps into the room, steam spilling out around his ankles.

The shift in the air is noticeable, especially with how Dongju’s mood has been steadily improving lately. When he doesn’t look up to run into the bathroom and continues to stare at his phone Dongmyeong takes a deep breath and goes to sit next to him on the mattress.

“Did he call you?” There’s worry in his voice and Dongju doesn’t like how he’s the cause of that.

He shakes his head even as he keeps his eyes on the phone. “Text,” is all he manages, throat dry all of a sudden.

Dongmyeong’s arms come up around his shoulders, hugging him from the side as he touches their temples together. “We don’t have to go back tomorrow if you don’t want to,” he says, gentle, careful not to break Dongju further. And Dongju loves his brother to bits, is so thankful to have somebody looking over him like this, but he doesn’t want to run away from his problems. Can’t avoid Youngjo forever, and he doesn’t even want to if he’s honest with himself. 

“I need to, Myeongie. And I want to,” is his answer, surety creeping into his voice along with the little nickname.

That’s all Dongmyeong needs to hear. He brushes Dongju’s hair down and squeezes him once, not letting him get up yet.

—

The morning starts the same as all the others since Youngjo came back. Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room. Coffee cup on the table. This time, Youngjo’s got his phone in his hand with his thumb hovering over Dongju’s contact name, right above Dongmyeong’s own number. He’s thought about it before but Dongmyeong wouldn’t give Dongju up like that, not if he didn’t want to be found; so he goes back to Dongju’s number and then backs out of his contacts list all together.

Youngjo tells himself not to get antsy, but it’s hard. Around noon he turns on his laptop and tries to get some work done, with mixed results. He’s not fully focused and he gets up to grab something to eat when his stomach starts rumbling, patting it absent-mindedly as he walks into the kitchen.

He ends up making more food than he was expecting, eyeing the three side dishes that somehow make it to the table. It’s a good thing his appetite is coming back, he supposes, and he doesn’t hesitate to dig in once everything’s ready, reveling in the taste of beef and hot broth and vegetable jeon. It’ll all make for good leftovers for dinner or breakfast tomorrow, Youngjo thinks as he puts everything away after he’s done with his lunch.

Back in the living room, he kind of feels like taking a nap and the full belly’s definitely got something to do with it. Youngjo puts on a drama he’s seen before (so he won’t feel too bad about falling asleep in the middle of an episode) and curls up on the couch, pulling a blanket halfway over his body. He looks at his phone and tries not to be too disappointed when there’s no new notifications waiting for him, then resolves to call Dongju in the morning if there’s still no reply once he wakes up. Settling in further, Youngjo makes it nearly through an entire episode before his eyelids drift shut, lulled to sleep by the soft music and gentle chatter pouring from his laptop speakers.

Outside, it starts raining.

—

Dongmyeong drops him off in front of the apartment complex late in the afternoon, still driving Harin’s minivan. The sky is turning dark and the rain is coming down in a gentle patter, turning Dongju’s jacket a darker green where the water drops soak into his shoulders. He knows his face is blank and it’s almost like Dongmyeong is more nervous than him, judging by the slightly awkward smile on his face. He tells Dongju to call him if he needs him, repeats it for the fourth time since they left and that makes Dongju sigh fondly, lips tugging up. They hug after Dongju gets his bag from the back seat and that makes him laugh slightly.

“It’s not like I’m enlisting, stop looking so sad,” he says with an almost pout, looking forward to the noise of indignation that slips out of Dongmyeong.

“We’re just going to talk,” he assures him. “And you’ll be right here if I need you.”

That makes Dongmyeong sigh, nodding as he steps away from Dongju and goes to open the car door on the driver’s side. 

Dongju watches as he reverses back into the street and drives back the way he came, hand lifted up in a wave until Dongmyeong has rounded the corner and disappeared. 

The plastic card feels foreign in his hand as he swipes it to open the big doors, looking up at the stairs that are supposed to take him to his apartment. Dongju’s bag isn’t heavy but it still manages to weigh him down and his breathing’s kicked up by the time he reaches their floor—or maybe that’s the nerves, something he doesn’t want to think about.

The familiar wooden panel greets him and he spends a moment wondering if Youngjo really is inside. He shouldn’t feel like a thief entering his own apartment but he does, making sure he’s extra quiet when he inserts the key into the lock, palm curled up around the keyring so it doesn’t bang against the wood. 

Light from the hallway spills inside as soon as he’s got the door open. Youngjo’s shoes are lined up with the wall, looking as if they’ve been worn recently. The faint scent of food still hangs in the air. Dongju breathes it in greedily, stands in the hallway as he debates going further into the apartment, not knowing what’s waiting for him on the other side. 

There’s just the thin wood of the living room door separating him from the rest of the house and potentially Youngjo as well. Dongju rests his hand on the door handle and presses his forehead to the wood, listening to anything that might give the older man away. The sound of falling rain is louder here and it’s both soothing and disconcerting at the same time, enough to make Dongju think that the window could be open in the other room.

He holds his breath and pushes down on the handle, wedging the door open. Dongju can’t make out too many details in the dark; just the glowing leds of a laptop on the table and a bit of light spilling in from the lamppost across the street. As expected, the window _is_ open and the outside noise is almost deafening but that still pales in comparison to the blood rushing to his head when he sees the figure standing in front of the window, elbows on the ledge and body turned towards him. 

Dongju drops his bag to the ground.


End file.
